She had no intention of fighting fair. My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall. Only her babe died. Light the lantern. “It’s a great deal for a young lady who’s alone in the world, as I suppose you are at present, to have a respectable home, and I do not think in such a case that private apartments are at all desirable. It had been brighter than the rest, for dawn light had come in through high unshuttered casements above the bookshelves. “Bother it all!” she swore. “But, forgive me, you are tired.
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